Might Get "Lucky" Yet, IYKWIMAITTYD!

Yee Haw! Just so happens I've got an Android phone! I'm in bidness, baybee!

Sex on first date more likely for Android users

The type of smartphone you use can reveal a lot about your love life and dating style, according to a new survey.

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Among the findings:

People who use Android phones are more likely to have sex on a first date, 62 per cent, compared to 57 per cent of iPhone users and 48 per cent of BlackBerry users. 

Android phone users are also more likely to partake in one-night stands, 55 per cent, compared to 50 per cent of iPhone users and 47.6 per cent of BlackBerry users. 

At 72 per cent, Android users were also the most active on online dating websites, compared to 58 per cent of those with iPhones and 50 per cent of people who have BlackBerrys. 

iPhone users were most likely to date in the workplace with nearly 25 per cent saying they have dated a co-worker in the last five years. 

BlackBerry users were the most likely to consume alcohol on a first date — 72 per cent.

Hah! Suck it, iPhone fanbois (and gurlz)! Y'all just keep messin' with yer coworkers, see where that gets ya! And Blackberry users - drink up!

H/T Dave Barry

Don't Have A Grandson With A Dog Collar

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This DirecTv ad just cracks me up. Love the deadpan announcer.

Been Watching "Swing Blade"

Just bend over a little more, Daddy. Then Mommy will be all mine. Mine, I say.

I Hope Your Grace Will Live So Long

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This, of course, is the famous sword fight scene at the end of Rob Roy. Liam Neeson plays the hero Robert Roy MacGregor, Jessica Lange his wife Mary, and Tim Roth as the villian Archibald Cunningham.

I don't know enough about Scottish traditions or history to know if this flick is accurate or not, but it does provide an interesting look at life there in the 1700s. It's a slow movie to develop, with a lot of heartache, and the eventual conflict is inevitable. Neeson provides a stolid performance, Roth eats up his evil character, and Lange seemed convincing enough to me.

As far as I'm concerned, it's all backdrop and buildup to this clip. It is considered one of the best sword fighting scenes on film. Roth's Cunningham demonstrates superior talent and is for sure the best swordsman if the criteria is just skill. He runs the "rope-a-dope" on Neeson's MacGregor, tiring him and forcing mistakes while wounding his opponent. However, MacGregor demonstrates that superior tactics can best talent.

Good stuff.

Rectal-Cranial Inversion

You can probably tell where this story is going, but oh well....

Last week, I made a trip to Evans, CO, as I have done many, many times. I hauled one 6'x15.5' 210bbl frp water tank on the top deck of a drop deck, plus two 10'x15.5' 315bbl steel crude tanks to the usual suspects in an oilfield supply yard. That particular load is one of our hardest pulling evah - a side wind will catch each tank and just multiply the effect. It was a windy day, but not as bad as some in the past. The trip itself takes about twelve or more hours to drive, so I don't even try, since eleven hours of driving is the legal limit. Ten or so hours finds me in Colby, KS on the way back, and there aren't many choices between there and the shop. I also usually fuel there, too. I could make it back to Garden some days, but it's best to be safe.

The Mighty Binder has two one hundred gallon fuel tanks, rated at 95% draw, which figures to be 190 gallons I should be able to rely on, correct? Uh, no. That would be if the tank had the cap at the very top, rather than tilted to the side so I can actually put fuel in the damn thing. Were the tank rolled perfectly vertical, the cap would be under the cab and inaccessible. However, the tank itself is designed and all the welded on labels are level, so the manufacturer knows damn well that the tank won't be used where the max draw figure they post is actually accurate. Trucks these days have an audible alarm when the fuel gets low, plus a warning light on the dash is activated. Aaaaand, I've run 'er pretty close a few times and have an idea what it really "holds." The fuel gauge will run on "E" for quite a while and in fact drop a ways below, too. It should be noted that this gauge never reads completely full, either.

Like I said, you just know where this is going.

I could see that the fuel level was a bit lower than it normally was during the trip home. I even thought about stopping at Limon to fuel, but I had visions of relaxing in the motel room dancing in my head. The alarm went off about the state line, but hey, Colby was only about sixty miles away, and I'd run way further than that loaded before. I could have stopped at Goodland, but my gauge wasn't even close to what I'd seen it in the past.

When I pulled into Colby, I could have fueled then. It really isn't such a hot idea to park a diesel truck after running with nearly empty tanks, because the air inside the tanks will cool, and condense any moisture in the remaining fuel. If the tanks are full, not so much. But, I was pooped. So, off to the motel I went.

The next morning, the thermometer in the truck showed eighteen degrees Fahrenheit. The ol' Clatterpillar was kinda reluctant to crank, but she fired up. If one takes off and just starts driving when the motors are cold, one can count on popping head bolts or cracking heads - having all kinds of trouble. The 'puters are supposed to prevent that by derating the motor power until it's thoroughly warmed, but that strategy still seems to place trucks in shops with the heads removed. So, I let 'er idle while I got the ol' funny pages caught up. After she was showing some water temp, I eased 'er out on the street and headed for a truck stop. I had planned on going across town to my favorite - a Bosselman's - but all of a sudden I was losing power. Well, maybe I could make it under the Interstate to the other truck stop, so I kept easing along.

Nope, wasn't gonna happen. I had enough to roll all the way to the right on the shoulder and clear the fog line. There was nutting happenin' with the engine goin' round and round no mo.

Le sigh.

I am a fat, lazy trucker. My first thought was to call someone and have them take care of it. Which would cost the company money. Money they shouldn't have to spend because of my stupidity. OK, scratch that plan.

I had rolled by a convenience store that sells truck diesel - maybe they'd have some fuel "cans." Turning on the flashers, I abandoned my ride and went to hiking. Six or seven hundred yards later and in the warmth of the store, I learned that they did not have anything like that at all. However, Orsheln's would probably carry them. At least a half mile away or more. Eighteen degrees.

Le sigh.

As I was crossing the street, I watched a Kansas Highway Patrol car drive by on his way to his regional office further north on that street. Never even looked at me. Now I dunno, seems to me it's kinda like his job to make sure that truck doesn't sit on the side of the road and if it's gonna for a while, it needs the emergency triangles out for safety. I didn't put 'em out because they're a pain in the ass. I realize it's not the Patrol's responsibility to give me a ride or anything, but it chapped my buttocks that he never even made eye contact with me.

I finally got to the farm supply store, and sure enough, they had plenty of fuel cans - even the proper yellow for diesel variety. I bought two.Thinking ahead, I also purchased a can of starting fluid (ether). On my long trudge back to the convenience store, my caring cop drove by me again with no reaction from him. Guess my carrying the cans told him all he needed to know. Glad I could help him out there.

After I filled the "cans" and carried them to the front door, it occurred to me that they were pretty damn heavy. They were supposed to be five gallon cans. I filled them to the line that said "five gallons" on both containers. I put in 8.4 gallons. Either the can manufacturer was lying (huh, sounds familiar) or we need to start buying all our fuel at that joint. A guy in a pickup happened to be there, so I just out and out asked him if he'd ferry me and my fuel to my truck parked down thataway. Sure 'nuff, he did. I told him he didn't need to hang around, just drop me and the fuel off. Thank you, God.

While pondering my fate - did I mention it was eighteen degrees out? - it also occurred to me that perhaps fuel gelling might have something to do with my predicament. I always carry some fuel treatment with me, don't you? I figured that if I poured the whole bottle, supposedly able to treat several hundred gallons - why that might break up any slushy blockage. So, half the bottle in one tank, the rest in the other.

I poured one "five gallon" in the passenger side, then I took the other can to the driver's side. I was standing in traffic on that side, and in a hurry. But, these new fangled cans have special no spill spouts that slow the process considerably. Took freaking forever. I also quit on the last can before I ran out. I needed to check my fuel filters - if they were empty, I was gonna have to fill them, too. This truck has two - one mounted on the firewall and one under the fuel pump on the motor. That one is a bitch kitty to change. Like most CATS, that filter has a manual fuel pump to help fill the filter, but for some reason there is no bleed screw on the housing anymore. One used to crack open the screw to let the air out when pumping fuel in. Seems to me the new fangled way just pressurizes the air in the filter rather than fill the thing with fuel, but maybe that's just me (and every other CAT drivin' trucker I know).

I also carry extra filters and a filter wrench, too. Luckily, the primary filter was still full. I finished off the last can, and crossing my fingers, I rolled down my window so I could hang off the steps, reach inside for the starter button, and reach the air filter with the ether can. I went to spraying and cranking. It took a while, and the cranking was slowing, but she finally fired. Shut the hood, put all the stuff away, drove to the truck stop and filled 'er up (less than 175 gallons total - including the 8.4 gallons, and I've put in right at 180 before), and removed my head from my buttocks and drove home.

I think the KHP has a policy of not giving anyone any rides, and maybe now they have a policy of not helping stranded motorists. I dunno. I just know that back in the day, the Patrolmen I knew would have at least stopped and asked me what was up, and if there was something they could do, even if they couldn't give me a ride. Some of the more legendary cowboys among them would have done what they damn well pleased. Things have changed for the KHP, and In My Humble Opinion - it's not for the best.

Nasty Perv Nutsack Sweat

To rip off Dave Barry - that would make an excellent name for a rock band. But it's not - it's a quote from another hilarious post from Laura Ledford's Fetch My Flying Monkeys. This one involves three women planning on visiting some mayhem on a tally whacking exhibitionist that has been reported in a particular area. That's all I gotta say about it, you'll just have to go read. Then, read the comments. The interaction between Laura and her commenters adds greatly to the fun factor. She holds all comments for approval and usually answers each and every one. Since she gets close to fifty comments on all her posts, that's a lot of work and on the fly humor. She also illustrates (her "renderings") a ton of posts, features her toy dinosaurs wreaking havoc, unless Jack, her wiener dog, eats a toe off one.

It's all light hearted fun, and it comes your way about five or six times a week. Well worth the visit!

It About Took Us All To Win It

After I had selected my food from the buffet and sat down at the Colonel's today, the elderly couple came in. With their deliberate walk, together they waited their turn at the cash register, the man paying, and together they picked up their plates and filled them from the buffet as well. They moved with the comfort of knowing each other and moving as a team for many, many years.

Side by side they sat in a booth facing me, and that is when I noticed the gentleman's hat. WWII Veteran it said. I know you've seen 'em - dark royal blue with gold lettering. I got up to make one more trip (like I needed it), and decided to continue exercising my policy.

I walked towards their table, and leaning forward over it, I spoke to the old warrior: I couldn't help noticing your hat, and I just wanted to thank you for your service, sir. That's all I wanted to say, and please excuse my interruption of your meal.

Somewhat surprised, he thanked me and voiced his appreciation. I told him it was my outstanding policy to thank veterans for their service, and that I appreciated it. He said: You know, there aren't many of us left anymore.    I told him I sure knew that was true, and excused myself to continue my original plan.

Later, after I had eaten some more, reading the paper, I noticed him coming towards me to speak again. He thanked me again, and we started talking. He had been to Europe, and some of his friends had been to the Pacific. He wanted to know where I was from, and I told him and asked if he knew one of my neighbors, who had been in the Battle of the Bulge. He knew him, and some of my other neighbors, plus he knew my Dad. Once he said his name, I remembered hearing of him some years back.

That is when reflecting, he said: It about took us all to win it. He meant all his compadres and the people at home.

It damn sure did, didn't it?

I don't tell you this story to make myself sound good - I'm pretty poor at taking compliments anyways. No, it truly is rewarding to thank a courtly gentleman and his wife for the sacrifices they made, and get to see the gratitude of the recognition. I guarantee you I made his and the wife's day. It's something we should all do.

And I felt so good about it, on the way home, I made it a point to stop at another of my neighbor's place who was in the Reserves during Vietnam. He didn't go, but he was on the edge of getting shipped out for quite some time. He was ready if they wanted him to go.

I thanked him, too.

Liberals Meme What They Say

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Sound familiar?





H/T Ace

Cause and Effect

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Long term effects may be hazardous to your health and well being, as well as your wallet.

H/T MoK

"I Don't Know Who You Are"

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Ahhh, Ordinary People. What a movie. I'm not much of a chick flick kinda guy, and so called tearjerkers often leave me cold. Don't like someone trying to manipulate my emotions cheaply. However, as the scene above shows - the manipulation of our emotions are honestly earned with fantastic writing and acting. This was perhaps the best performances of both Timothy Hutton and Judd Hirsch. Hutton was a virtual newcomer, and Hirsh shocked us all because we were all so used to seeing him in the television series Taxi, hardly a dramatic role. I gotta tell ya, this is one scene that really gets to me.

This was Robert Redford's directorial debut, perhaps his best effort. The story unfolds showing the day to day life of Conrad Jarrett (Timothy Hutton) and his parents, Beth (Mary Tyler Moore) and Calvin (Donald Sutherland) - a Midwestern upper middle class family. This was also quite a step away from what we were used to seeing Mary Tyler Moore portray. I think the choice to cast her was brilliant, because we were shocked to see her as, well, frankly, a bitch. Other notable performances and appearances were M. Emmet Walsh (one of my fav character actors of all time) as Conrad's less than sympathetic swim coach, Elizabeth McGovern as Conrad's burgeoning love interest (lookin' ever so cute), and even Adam Baldwin (Jayne and Animal Mother, baybee!).

We learn Conrad has just been released from a mental institution and is seeing Dr. Berger (Judd Hirsch), a psychiatrist. We learn that Conrad tried to kill himself, and that the family is still suffering from the death of the oldest son Buck. Beth and Calvin's apparently strong marriage starts to unravel and we start to see more and more of the story. An apparently simple tale that turns out to be about anything but simple. We see the always positive, chirpy shiny everything is perfect Beth unravel, Conrad's journey into healing, and Calvin's self discovery and open eyes regarding his family. It really is a predictable tale, but the writing, pacing and acting make the sum of the movie greater than it's parts.


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Another excellent scene. You can just see the porcelain doll that is Beth cracking, and the pain Calvin feels about his discovery of the truth. When Beth is packing to leave we really see her fall apart, and yet, will herself back into her delusional identity of being above it all. Another great scene is at the end, when Conrad and Calvin connect. Lots of honest, raw emotions in this flick - and none overblown, overacted or oversold. Redford definitely had a deft touch, and some quality actors to direct.

Four Oscars and two more nominations, and five Golden Globes with three additional nominations later, among other numerous awards has this film firmly entrenched as a classic, quality film. I'm sure most of us have seen the movie, and it's definitely worth watching again. If you've missed it - best rectify that situation immediately if not before, if you wanna claim you like movies!